


Thanksgiving with the Ipliers

by Snarkyowl



Series: Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Genre: Ed Edgar - Freeform, Googleplier - Freeform, Silver Shepherd - Freeform, king of the squirrels, yandereplier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarkyowl/pseuds/Snarkyowl
Summary: Prompt was: The egos on thanksgiving?





	Thanksgiving with the Ipliers

“Wilford! Bring the damned sweet potato casserole back!” Bim’s voice wrings out through the entire building, and for a moment the only thing that follows is silence. Finally, in a fantastic explosion of pink smoke and the smell of bubblegum, Wilford appears in the kitchen with the stolen dish in hand. His lip is stuck out in a pout and he gives Bim the best puppydog eyes he can manage.  
“But Bim, I want to _eat_ the sweet potato casserole.”  
“Well then you can wait and eat it with everyone else. Now go set it on the table, I’ll be watching you so don’t even think about trying anything, mister. Oh, and Google?”

The android lifts his head with a questioning but overall uninterested beep, hands still clutching the bag of icing he’s using to decorate the cupcakes Bim set down in front of him ten minutes ago.  
“Once you finish with those, could you get the pumpkin pie out of the fridge so it’ll start warming up a bit?”  
“Of course.”

Bim nods approvingly, turning on his heel to check on Ed and Silver with the turkey and stuffing. “How’s it going boys?”  
“Pretty dern well, if y’ask me.” Ed looks all too smug for the task he’s accomplished, but Bim lets him have it because they’re friends and Ed’s hands are mostly see-through by now.  
“The stuffing is good, do you want a bite?” Silver offers, but Bim shakes his head a bit with a grateful smile.  
“No, no. Can’t spoil my appetite for the main course. You know me.” Silver nods in what seems to be understanding, offers a smile in return to Bim’s, then turns back to getting everything tidied up.

Bim returns his attention to the oven, checking on what he thinks is Bing’s green-bean casserole, ensuring that it hasn’t burnt before making his way over to King and Yan and their macaroni and cheese.  
“Everything alright with you, kids?”  
“Everything is going great, Bim.” Yan agrees, and King only nods his head with enthusiasm. _Never does talk much_ , Bim thinks to himself as he waves goodbye and heads out to check on Wilford and the dining table.

Mini Bing glances up at him and waves with an excited, “Sah, dude!” Bim laughs and waves back, watching as Wilford fidgets obsessively with a fork.  
“Everything alright, Mr. Warfstache?”  
“It’s just– well. I was counting the places and, well– you see–” Wilford spreads his hands out, lamely gesturing to the rest of the table.

“There’s not enough seats.”  
“Not enough seats? But Google and I checked twice with everyone that would be attending. Hell, we even have a seat for _Mark._ ” Bim says, crossing his arms over his chest. Wilford grimaces and wrings his hands, dancing from one foot to the other nervously.  
“I’m sure you did a very good job, but there’s no seat for Dark.” Bim heaves a sigh as Wilford says it, shaking his head tiredly.  
“Wilford, you know as well as I do that Dark isn’t showing up to Thanksgiving. He never does.”  
“But what if he wants to?”  
“We asked. Twice. He said no. Twice. Do you need anymore proof than that, Wilford?”

Wilford wiggles his mustache in irritation, huffing softly and tapping his hand on the table before his attention zeroes back in on Bim.  
“I’m making him come.”  
“Fine. I’ll _personally_ set his spot. Head of the tabl–”  
“No. No I want him to sit next to me. It’ll be like old times, that will make him behave.” Wilford seems overconfident in his ability to control Dark, but Bim won’t comment on it. Not now. Not today. He can’t risk sending Wilford into a tizzy, not on Thanksgiving.

No more Thanksgiving incidents.

“Well, Wil. You go convince Dark to head down. We’ll be putting the food on the table.” Bim murmurs, watching as Wilford disappears with an excited giggle. 

“Alright, everyone,” he calls, “code seven. Dark is going to be present, we’ll have to make the necessary adjustments.”  
The resounding agreement from everyone is a comfort because at least they know what to do. With this bunch, things never go very smoothly. Bim is hoping that just this once, things will go well.

 _Happy Thanksgiving_ , he thinks only a little bitterly. Because really, his Thanksgivings have never been very happy.  
He hopes this year will be different.


End file.
